Rock Reckoning: A Rockstar Suspense Romance Collection

by Cari Quinn

  “What I came here to ask your wife.” Simon yanked the magazine back as Lila stepped into the doorway, her sharp heels clicking on the floor.

  She did not seem surprised to see him.

  “Simon, come inside. Nicholas, go do something. Like head down to studio B, your supposed reason for being here.”

  Surprisingly, he didn’t argue. Just stared hard at Simon. “Lewis doesn’t always consult with her when he sets his little plots in motion. Remember that.” He turned to give Li a quick kiss before striding down the hall.

  Simon met Lila’s gaze unflinchingly. “Is that true? You were unaware that Ian is now signed to Ripper Records?”

  “I knew it before you arrived. I did not know it before the contracts were drawn up.”

  “And if you had? Would you have fought on my behalf, or simply looked to cash in?”

  Her bluebell eyes turned hard. “Come in my office. This is not a conversation to be held in the hallway.”

  He followed her inside and barely checked the urge to slam the door.

  This wasn’t Lila’s fault. Intellectually, he understood that. It wasn’t even Lewis’s doing. If Ian showed up and started to sing, what were they going to do? Turn him away out of some loyalty to Simon, who’d been on their roster for years?

  Yes. That was exactly what he’d believed they would do—if his thoughts had even veered that far.

  They hadn’t.

  Other than preparing for the baby, he’d spent the couple of weeks upon their return from Europe mostly hibernating with his wife, trying to dodge phone calls from people wanting his take on Ian’s sudden metaphoric rise. There had even been questions about Ian’s heroics on the beach, asking if he was a proud older brother.

  He couldn’t define his emotions right now, but pride wasn’t one of them.

  “You want a drink?”

  He snapped his gaze to Lila standing at the bar cart in her office and cocked an eyebrow. She knew full well how badly alcohol and his vocal cords mixed.

  “Not alcohol.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Perrier, iced tea, soda?”

  Shaking his head, he dropped into the chair opposite her desk. Instead of looking at the magazine again, he dumped it into her circular bin. He’d seen enough of that dude’s smug mug for a lifetime.

  Christ, had he ever looked so superior?

  Lila retrieved the magazine he’d thrown out and spread it open on her desk. She didn’t sit.

  “I had nothing to do with his being signed. I didn’t know about it. I’m most certainly not his rep.”

  Simon said nothing.

  “Nicholas informed you of that already. What he didn’t tell you is that Ian isn’t only the newest member of the Ripper Records family.” She opened her top left drawer and withdrew a folded newspaper that was perfectly creased. So unlike the tattered magazine that looked as if he’d unleashed his frustration on the pages.

  She pushed it toward him and tilted her head, waiting for Simon to pick it up. He read the headline of the small article at the bottom and tossed it back on the desk. “I’ve read enough about his fucking hero antics, thank you very much.”

  “The woman he supposedly saved is my cousin, Zoe. Whom he met because I arranged for her to photograph the Zeps show.” She laughed faintly. “Arranging is a much more polite word than what actually happened. She had no interest. She falls squarely on the love side of the for-love-or-money equation. The last thing she wants to do is worry about a paycheck.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “Surely you remember being that pure in your affection for your art. I know you do. That posturing routine doesn’t work on me, Simon. Though I have to say I’ve heard someone else employs it as well.”

  “Don’t.” He held up a hand. “I’ve already gotten to read plenty about how he’s just like me except younger. Sharper. Prettier with his flowing fucking locks and his British accent meant to divest women of their panties. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “You’re jealous.” She rocked back on her heels as if he’d delivered her a physical blow. “With all you have, all you’ve achieved, you’re jealous of a man who came to his meeting with Donovan in ripped shoes. Who I’ve heard lives in a crack motel and carries half his belongings around with him to gigs so he doesn’t get ripped off.”

  Simon shut his eyes against the wash of shame that climbed up his spine and burned along the back of his neck. “It’s not that simple.”

  “No. It’s not. Because I’m not at all certain he’s just here for the reasons of making sweet music. Or sweet love with my cousin, who is far more naive and innocent than she realizes.” She pulled another clipping out of her top drawer and slid it toward Simon.

  This time, it was from one of the tabloid sites and there were more pictures than words. He’d already seen them thanks to his inability to stop with the Google alerts on his brother. Ian causing a stir on the beach, this time due to a happy little singalong with Zoe on his lap. Kissing Zoe. The two of them running like carefree kids as eager fans chased after him.

  “Jesus, he’s already living the rockstar life.” Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I should unzip my pants onstage too? Is that the missing ingredient?”

  “Unbuttoned,” Lila said lightly.

  “Whatever.”

  “You know full well sex sells. Are you honestly telling me every time you and Margo dance around each other onstage that there isn’t some knowledge of what inflames the fans behind it?”

  “I don’t do anything solely for that reason any longer. Especially not dance with my fucking wife.”

  “Because you don’t have to. You’re a millionaire many times over. Ian received a paltry signing bonus, and I’ve been told he acted as if he’d been given a Cornwall estate. He’s as poor as you, Nick, and Deacon were growing up. The only difference? He’s alone, and you had each other.”

  Simon rolled his shoulders. Ever since he’d glimpsed Ian on TV, he’d lived with a low, simmering ache under his skin, as if he’d run out of enough room in his body for his organs. Every part of him felt crowded.

  And now Ian was at Ripper too. Killing it. With his ripped shoes and his poetic curls and soulful voice.

  Ian was him, but he was better. Hungrier. Eager to soak up every drop of the experience.

  So, yeah, he was fucking jealous. He wanted to be that man again with that relentless, burning ambition, who loved the music to the point of madness. But not if it meant not having all he had in his life now.

  Margo.

  Their baby, which he wanted with the same fierceness as he loved his wife.

  His life was too full for him to fixate on music to that extent anymore. Deep down, he didn’t want to. But looking at fucking Ian made him yearn.

  “I’m not alone, you’re right. I have a tightly knit family, one I “made and one I was lucky enough to be given.” He swallowed hard and rubbed the polished gold ring around his finger. “Am I supposed to forget he basically called me out on television and have some Hallmark-style reunion with a stranger?”

  “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just saying he was on the ropes, so it’s not surprising he grabbed for a life preserver.”

  He nearly smiled. “You’re mixing your metaphors.”

  “I don’t know what to make of him,” she said finally, running a pink-polished nail over the strand of black pearls around her neck. “Part of me feels sorry for him. He’s not had an easy road, has he?”

  Simon said nothing. No, he probably had not. As he had not, either. Too bad he hadn’t had any famous older siblings he could use as a cash card to buy himself entrance to the music world.

  But he also knew he’d been granted some gifts of luck himself. He’d gained national attention through a concert video that went viral on YouTube, not entirely different from how Ian had begun to take off. Still, he’d had no tokens to turn in to get further. He’d had only his own wits and his talent to get him where he needed to go.

  “Nor had you,” Lil
a said quietly, reading his mind. “But I’ll say again—you weren’t alone. You discount the difference that makes because you’ve never been alone for long. That kid doesn’t even know how to work with a band. He’s performing with studio musicians, half of whom detested him by the end of their first night together.”

  “Says plenty, doesn’t it?”

  “Perhaps. To me it says he’s like a feral cat, learning how to operate among humans.”

  Simon raised a brow. “Not that that’s a flattering description in any way, but remind me again how you’re not on his side?”

  “I’m not. And truly, there are no sides.”

  Simon grunted and tucked his fists under his arms. Right.

  “Donovan gave Ian a chance when he contacted him. Believe me, Donovan is no one’s fool. He’s got his eye on him, as does his rep, Sabrina. Sabrina, however, is a bit starry-eyed from the dollar signs she sees right now. Already he’s proving quite lucrative, so she might be willing to overlook some warning signs.”

  “And you’re saying you’re not?” He frowned. “What warning signs?”

  Lila finally sat in her chair. “His past is filled with brushes with the law and those in authority. Minor things mostly, excepting a rather large bank heist that he was involved in with a crew of much older men.”

  Simon leaned forward. “Excuse me? Did you say bank heist?”

  “The charges were dismissed, against Ian in any case. Not so for some of his band of merry men. Restitution was made. His record was scrubbed.” Lila smiled slowly, resembling a Cheshire cat. “Or so he believed.”

  Simon stared. “How did he get out of that one? And Margo told me you’d said that he only had minor things on his record.”

  “I hadn’t found the rest yet. It was a few layers deep.”

  “Not deeper than Lord Lewis’s pockets can run.”

  She gave a dainty shrug. “We know some people.”

  “Yeah. So, you’re saying the kid isn’t only an opportunist, he’s a felon too. Fabulous.”

  “I’m also saying he must know some powerful people. How does a virtual street kid from the bowels of London not only make restitution for a sizable debt to a financial institution, but also possess the wherewithal to get those charges dropped and hidden away?”

  “If he was young—”

  “When you’re dealing in terms of that much money, it isn’t so easy to make things disappear. He wasn’t wealthy himself. He knew someone—or several someones—who were willing to play magician on his behalf. That kind of trickery costs.”

  “You think his desperation to use my name to climb the ranks as quickly as possible is due to his debts.”

  “I don’t know. But my Spidey senses are tingling.”

  “Sure they aren’t tingling because a so-called street kid—your words—is tangling with your pretty young cousin?”

  She sat back in her chair. “Probably,” she said after a long moment. “You’re probably right that my concern for Zoe isn’t helping matters. She sees herself as far more streetwise than she actually is. She came fresh from the farm, and we both know how a place like LA can chew you up and spit you out.”

  “Yet you have no such fears for Ian. Because clearly, he’s on the make. And the take. And God knows what else.”

  Why was he playing devil’s advocate? He’d come in this office, pissed to hell that Lila and Donovan and all of Ripper Records had betrayed him by signing Ian.

  Now other thoughts were starting to creep in. Like how Ian was being pegged and pigeonholed for his shitty background, just as he had been.

  Different sides of the same coin—a world apart.

  Of course he hadn’t turned to large-scale felonies to pay his bills. But if someone was desperate enough, and if they were alone, as Lila had been sure to beat into his head…

  Fuck, he did not want to put himself into that kid’s shoes. Not his fucking problem.

  He’s your brother. You know it. Can you really be so eager to side against him?

  Actually, he wasn’t eager. He just wanted to snap his fingers and be back in that hotel room overseas. Except this time, he wouldn’t idly surf to the talent competition where he’d first laid eyes upon his brother’s face. Maybe then none of this would’ve happened.

  Yeah, right. As if he could make Ian disappear so easily. But a guy could dream.

  And he could also face reality. Eventually.

  Ian was in his life, even if just peripherally. He existed. He had talent, and he had ambition. He wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  Lila sipped from her glass of water, and belatedly, Simon realized they’d both been lost in their thoughts for several minutes. She set down her glass, then ran her fingertip along the rim. “I have my prejudices against him, as Zoe’s cousin. You’re right. No one would be good enough for her in my eyes. Especially not a rockstar—” She held up a hand as Simon started to speak. “Yes, I know that’s ridiculous. I also know I’m far too overprotective of her, since I babysat for her when she was a kid. Rockstars are no worse—and no better—than other men. But I’ll admit, the lifestyle unnerves me. Add in some of Ian’s other particulars, and yes, I’m concerned.”

  “His particulars like being poor, from a shitty family, and a criminal.”

  “The criminal part weighs heaviest. You’d be surprised, but I don’t give a rat’s bum who his parents are.”

  “Were,” Simon snapped, though the truth was, he didn’t know.

  Ian hadn’t spelled out their mother was dead. Simon had just assumed.

  He’d assumed far too much, evidently.

  “Are you being intentionally difficult with me, or is this just your new disposition? Because if it’s the latter, remind me to send a card with my condolences to Margo.”

  Simon had to laugh. “I’m sorry, Li. I’m just not all right with any of this. Even sitting here talking about him seems weird. Six weeks ago, I’d never heard of this dude. My life was fucking perfect.”

  “And now it’s all drudgery and heartache?”

  Despite himself, he smiled and started to speak, then quickly shut his mouth.

  Fuck, he’d nearly spilled the beans about the baby. The words were right there. But he couldn’t. Not just yet. Tour dates would have to be postponed most likely, or shows reconfigured, and they both knew Li would freak out before she went all melty-eyed and cooed with the best of them.

  Plus, there was what Nicky had told him when they were overseas about him and Li trying to have another baby. The last thing Simon wanted to do was to rub salt in the wound. They’d be happy for them, he was sure, and would probably dole out more than their healthy share of ribbing—especially Nicky. But he didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be for them.

  “No, my life is pretty fucking awesome,” he said quietly, rubbing his ring again. “Especially now. It’s never been better.”

  “Ian is just a thorn.”

  “For you as well, it sounds like.”

  “If he hurts Zoe…” She trailed off and folded her hands on the desk. “The bottom line is we don’t know what Ian is up to. If anything. He may just be a young man with a guitar, plenty of drive, and far too many curls.”

  “My hair isn’t like that,” Simon muttered, touching it to make sure it hadn’t gone nuts on him from the humidity since he’d left home. His was a little wavy, sure, but curls like Ian’s? No. Definitely not.

  “Or he may be someone who bears watching,” Lila continued, pursing her lips. “Which is where you come in.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Donovan and Sabrina came up with the idea to have you work with Ian.”

  He barely heard the words before he slammed his hands on her desk. “No. Hell no!”

  She scarcely blinked. “Knowing that would be your reaction, I told them no. I didn’t even want to consider it. To be honest, I felt blindsided by the way Ian was contracted to Ripper Records without my knowledge. They know the relationship we have. It goes beyond manager an
d artist, and yes, that’s on me for letting those lines blur. But Donovan knows.”

  “He only gives a shit about how fat his wallet gets. People are meaningless to him.”

  “Careful,” Lila said. “You don’t want to go so far you can’t take back what you’ve said.”

  “No worries there. I’ve thought Lord Lewis overreached since day one.”

  “Since day one when he signed you and made you and your bandmates international stars. How dare he.” She examined her nail polish. “Since you’re you, and I’m me, I will acknowledge I don’t always agree with Donovan’s methods. But I never doubt the decision-making behind them. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Simon grunted. Yeah, easy for her to think that. She wasn’t the puppet he wanted to make dance.

  Or in this case, sing.

  “Ian has a ton of buzz behind him. Partly because of his look, partly because of his antics onstage, partly because of his British accent and his way with the ladies. The rest? All has to do with his voice. Donovan has approximately one other male artist on his roster with that kind of range who would blend well with Ian’s style of music. And I’m looking at him.”

  “Bullshit. He wants to cash in on the feuding brothers crap.”

  “You stand to make a fuckton of money for what amounts to not a lot of time in the studio. We’re thinking one four-song EP. Three new songs with the two of you, and the live single already released from his last show.”

  Simon smirked. “The one where he nearly lost his pants?”

  “It worked, didn’t it? And seeing as you can’t make it through a show with your shirt on, I wouldn’t act too haughty if I were you.”

  “Why should I do this? Just to make money? Just so he makes money? So Donovan makes it?”

  She shrugged. ‘“Seems like a good reason to me.”

  “What about fucking personal integrity?”

  “What about getting a chance to see him up close and personal, day in and day out, for a few weeks? What about figuring out if he’s running a con—or putting our concerns to rest on that score, if it turns out he isn’t?”

  “Our concerns? Is that what we’re calling them now?”